


Liebesträume

by currypizza



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/currypizza/pseuds/currypizza
Summary: On the morning of their 150th anniversary, Austria and Hungary are in awe at how long it’s been, a bit at a loss for how to celebrate. A phone call jars their memories more deeply than they expected, and they reflect on their relationship, how it paralleled the relationship of Franz Joseph and Elisabeth, and how it differed.





	Liebesträume

**June 8, 2017**

The smell of fresh coffee permeated the dining area in the home Austria and Hungary shared in Fertőrákos. It was late morning. Marking the start of summer and the end of a long line of business commitments, both of them needed time away from their work. They had purchased the home several decades earlier. They had a very small vineyard – only for personal purposes, not enough to market any wine, and sometimes Italy would come help with the winemaking process (France was far too controlling in the matter). The home itself was not very large; their bedroom was in fact quite small, the kitchen several decades out of date, but it did have an island large enough to prepare strudel, and a space out back for a wood fire and cauldron for making stews in the method Hungary was most comfortable with, which was what mattered.

It almost felt like any other morning at that country home, but both of them were aware of what day it was, and the comfortable, effectively-married silence that usually surrounded them was less comfortable, and more timid. They’d exchanged several warm gazes, a few groggy kisses on the temples, but the truth was, neither of them quite knew what to say. In the days leading up to their anniversary, it seemed as if there would have been grand, emotional celebrations – they had been abstaining from physical affection for the sole purpose of making this day all the more lively, all the more like their first night together as husband and wife. But when the day finally arrived, it was as if all of that vanished, and it was the shyness, not the passion, of their first days together that had returned. Hungary, in particular, was jarred by it. She had planned on initiating _quite_ a few things that morning, but she found herself stunned to inaction. _It really was 150 years, wasn’t it?_

The sound of soft coffee sipping was interrupted by the phone ringing. Both of them jumped, and it rang a few times as they sat stunned, before Hungary finally approached it. Looking at the caller ID, a smile melted away the inertia from just a few moments earlier. She answered, putting it on speaker without warning Austria first.

 _“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!”_ A loud, tenor voice rang, the timbre of which made Austria wince.

Hungary smiled, putting a hand over her mouth, not having realized how loud Italy would have shouted his greeting, knowing she should have known better. “Thank you,” she laughed. “You’re on speaker, just so you know.”

“Am I? Good, I wanted to say it to both of you. Hi Austria!”

Austria massaged his brow. “Hello, Italy,” he mumbled, his voice still quite low from the effects of the morning. “There’s no need to shout directly into the mouthpiece.”

“Ahh, I didn’t mean to!” Italy replied, and Hungary could practically hear the hand-flailing over the phone. “What sort of special plans do you have tonight?”

There was a long silence. It seemed long, anyway. It was a question that should have had an answer.

“Well,” Hungary started, “I was supposed to make us a nice dinner, but we overslept, and the prep work would have had to have been done an hour ago to be eating at a reasonable—”

“Ehh?” Italy shouted again, seeming to have forgotten Austria’s irritation. “Cooking for yourself, on such a special day? No, you should go out!”  
  
“It’s too late to make a reservation,” Austria said curtly, and Hungary could tell he was mentally berating himself for not having done so a month ago. “Not for the kind of restaurant this day would warrant. Should warrant.”

Hungary found herself blushing. She approached him, beginning to knead a knot out of his neck with her thumb and forefinger. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it, I could have called somewhere too,” she assured him, softly enough that the speaker phone wouldn’t pick it up. “It’s not like there’s much around here…”

“You should have told me,” the phone yelped again, “or I could have come over and made you a great dinner! I have so many zucchini flowers, I always thought they were fun and romantic, eating flowers—”

“That’s quite all right,” both of them snapped, in friendly but firm unison.

“ _Bene, bene…_ ah, but I wanted you to hear something. Austria, I’ve been practicing more lately.”  
  
The corner of Austria’s mouth turned up, satisfied. “Good, you should be.”

“Here, here. I’ve been working on this for you.” The sound of open strings being plucked to ensure tuning could be heard, muffled, and Italy began to play.

Both of them froze. Hungary’s hand, which had relaxed on Austria’s shoulder from before, tightened once again, gently. For the next seven minutes, they listened quietly as Italy played the _Benedictus_ from Liszt’s Hungarian Coronation Mass, written for that day a century and a half ago. The mass was given in honor of the Emperor and Empress, now also King and Queen, but it was during the _Benedictus_ that Austria and Hungary quietly said their vows, discreetly, as they were not the focus of the event. Now, as they listened to it without accompaniment, without chorus, it sounded more intimate than ever. A tear ran down Hungary’s cheek as her eyes fluttered shut, remembering that the same man who was now playing for them had brought them their rings, remembering how frustrating and relieving it was to have to exchange vows so quickly and softly, so as not to disturb the flow of the ceremony. Frustrating, because in principle, they deserved more than that – to be more than just a visual symbol for the congregation of the two lands joining into one empire. Relieving, because in reality, that brief moment was all they needed, and because no one else needed to hear their vows aloud. It was just the two of them, and without the pressure of performance, they were able to focus on each other. With the music blocking out much of the ambient noise of the cathedral, it was almost possible to imagine that no one else was there, that their marriage had nothing to do with arrangements, it wasn’t meant to be a temporary fix for economic instability – for them, in those seven minutes, it was a celebration of their love as people.

“…You haven’t said anything,” Italy’s voice came through again. “Are you kissing?”

Austria’s eyes shot open, tinged pink. His voice cracked. “Your double-stop tremolo needs work—”

He was interrupted by a soft slap on the shoulder and a hushed _what is wrong with you?_ from Hungary. “It was beautiful,” she cut in. “Really… thank you.”

“Truly; it was better than any dinner you could have made,” Austria added.

“Aha, well, I won’t take that as an insult to my cooking because I know how much music means to you… anyway, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I just wanted you to hear that again, and you should figure out what you’re doing tonight! If you can’t do a fancy restaurant, just bring fruit and cheese and wine to a scenic spot, it’s cheaper and nicer…”

“You haven’t wasted our time,” Austria insisted. “You remembered quite a bit of the original phrasing, I’m impressed.”

“Why are you so clinical?” she whispered.

Excited clapping came from Italy’s end of the phone line. “Ah, I impressed you! Good! And you sound pretty emotional, for you anyway, so I think I did my job. Anyway, have a great anniversary! Love you, miss you!”

“We miss you too, Italy,” Hungary managed, her voice trembling. In all truth, the music, the entire conversation, sent her back to the days before the marriage. The courtship, the tears, the scurrying off to be alone, the failed revolts, the attempts at parenting, the _youth_ …

As soon as the click came, signaling that Italy had hung up, Hungary put the phone back in its charging stand, her hand slumping to her side after. She turned around to find that Austria had stood up, and was sniffling. She hurried to join him, holding him, sobs escaping her as well.

“I didn’t expect to spend today _weeping,_ of all things,” she started, “but here we are.”

She felt Austria nodding, his slender fingers working their way through her hair, clutching it tenderly just near her scalp. “We are…” he breathed. “Still here, I mean.”

All Hungary could manage in response was a hum, agreeing.

-

**June 6, 1867**

It was only a day into the seven-day spectacle surrounding the Coronation, and already it was tiring. Austria needed distance from it all. Perhaps if the pressure of marriage were not involved, he would have felt more emotional stamina. That evening, however, the Empress was to hold a ladies’ reception, leaving Austria with some free time.

Having known that free time was on the menu, Spain, France, Prussia, Italy and Slovakia had all teamed up to organize a stag night. Austria would have strongly preferred to catch up on lost sleep, but he did not have very much say in the matter. Switzerland, though a groomsman, opted to stay home that night.

It would have seemed that Prussia would not be interested in such an event – even Austria, feeling at least an ounce of pity, asked him if he was sure he wanted to attend (after all, Prussia did cause so much _trouble,_ really; he had to make him promise not to cause a ruckus).

Prussia slammed his hand on the table. “Ha! Don’t you start with that fake sympathy,” he laughed. “I’ve got my own reasons to take a break and celebrate, you know. Writing the constitution for the North German Confederation is tiring business! Aren’t you glad I took that off your hands?”

Austria sighed. “Indeed.” He wasn’t going to push further. On paper, no, he was still bitter that he lost the war with Prussia over the right to shape the German lands into a new country. He was still bitter that Italy allied himself with Prussia, knowing that an Austrian defeat would mean freedom. But there was a part of him that was grateful for the way things turned out – if it weren’t for his crushing defeat, the Dual Monarchy may never have gone through. He knew Prussia was aware of that. In effect, Prussia had driven Austria into Hungary’s arms, and committed to the sacrifice that meant a newborn nation would eventually replace him. Austria hated the man, and he loathed the fact that there were too many diplomatic pressures on all sides for Prussia _not_ to attend the wedding. But despite all that… well, he didn’t like to think on it much. He didn’t quite care for anything resembling compassion for his nemesis, especially if it veered on making him feel guilty for what he had. What he deserved. Without question, he deserved to be with the woman he loved, and to have it solidified by the sacrament of marriage.

That was then; as it was now, Austria sat in the center seat of a carriage, crowded on all sides by the four other men, blindfolded. He was told they were all on their way to a banquet.

“I don’t trust any of you,” he grunted. “I don’t know of any banquet _of good repute_ that would require my eyes to be covered on the way there.”

“Relax,” Spain insisted, putting a hand on Austria’s shoulder. It was true; if any of the other men there had said that word to him, it would have had the opposite effect. Spain was the only one he trusted – mostly. He also knew that Spain was too easily influenced by troublemakers.

“It’s a good thing you have no sense of direction,” Italy added, “or you might guess which streets we’re turning onto.”

“Hey, atta boy!” Prussia mussed Italy’s hair, perhaps not as gently as he could have. “You’re catching on.”

“ _Mon cher…”_ Austria felt a rough finger stroking the underside of his jaw, and he cringed. “Tell me, do you think I would take you somewhere of _ill_ repute?”

“Yes.” Austria did not even hesitate to answer.

France clicked his tongue. “Pity, pity… you think I have no taste, do you not?”

“Not at all. I think you have a very keen sense of taste. I simply find that taste questionable.”

It was for the better that Austria could not see the sadistic grin growing on France’s lips. “So I see – perhaps I will change your mind. We have arrived; you may remove the scarf from your eyes. I have rented this theatre for the evening.”

Once again, Austria did not hesitate. He tore the fabric away, straining to get a glimpse out of the window before even thinking about exiting the carriage. Yes, it was the red light district. It looked… clean, however, this spot. It wasn’t a building or area he would describe as seedy; perhaps it wouldn’t be so awful. At the very least, he didn’t feel overdressed.

And, after all, in two days, he would not be able to get away with this. Indefinitely. If any curiosity lurked in his mind, now was the only time to quell it.

“Well, you’re not throwing a fit,” Spain smiled. “That’s a start. Shall we go in?”

And so they did.

It was a theatre – was all of this hullaballoo over a simple bawdy comedy? He wouldn’t mind that. His heart rate slowed as he took a seat among the crowd. It raced again, when France held up a finger, dashing towards the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our honored guest has arrived!”

Austria sank in his chair. The crowd hooted.

“Now, as you know, he is to be married in two days, so I have arranged for a special performance. I have brought for you tonight, from my beloved home, straight from _Le Moulin Rouge—”_

_“NO—”_

“—I present to you, _Les Jambes Joyeuses!”_

“ _Gottverdammt—”_

Spain and Italy moved to the edge of their seats and clapped excitedly as one by one, the dancers hopped gracefully onto the stage. Prussia, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. Austria watched, horrified, yet riveted, his hands covering most of his face apart from his wide eyes.

“Italy, you shouldn’t be here,” Austria snapped, instinctively.

“You don’t get to boss him around anymore, Specs.” Prussia seemed extremely satisfied to be able to flaunt this fact. “He’s independent now, practically an adult, thanks to my help. Let the kid enjoy the view.”  
  
“Preußen, you just called him a kid and an adult in the same sentence, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Austria, don’t encourage him…” Spain whispered, careful that Prussia wasn’t in earshot. “I’ve been talking with him, he’s in a sour mood, just ignore him and let it pass…”

“No one told him he had to come tonight! I told him he didn’t have to and he insisted, and now he’s going to be like this…”

Spain crowed happily at the soloist who had just begun her routine, partly out of genuine interest, but mostly to change the subject. “Don’t you remember how to relax? Remember when we found those dirty books, and you didn’t care? We just burrowed under the covers and laughed at it? What happened to that old Austria? This isn’t any different.”

The flood of nostalgia clashed in Austria’s mind with the current environment. Sentimentality and humiliation were not emotions he was used to combining. It wasn’t exactly accurate to say Austria hadn’t cared, but all-nighters with Spain were some of the times he remembered being the _least_ prudish. He’d say it was improper, just to put it out there that he disapproved in theory, and proceeded to spend hours reading it aloud, fascinated by the sound of such vulgar language coming out of his mouth, listening as Spain giggled in response. “We are in public, Toño, it’s _quite_ different.”

Spain laughed. “Been a while since I heard you call me that. Ah, look at her garter…! You can see it.” He tapped Austria’s thigh repeatedly, as if the man weren’t already listening.

Austria did, in fact, manage to redirect his attention to the dancer. It was pleasant, if he were honest with himself, more than pleasant – and he found himself examining the woman, searching for glimpses of what he could. Exhaling deeply, he resigned himself to the nature of the evening. He could feel his cheeks warming, but with Spain there, it seemed less out of place. Spain had always been a calming force in his life, and one to make the absurd seem… well, less so. If France and Prussia weren’t there – Italy was just fine, but in this context it was too strange – perhaps the night would be more ideal. Just Austria and Spain, alone with the women performing for them.

He cursed himself for that thought, and for glancing to gauge Spain’s reaction to the situation for just a heartbeat too long.

Now was absolutely the worst time.

“Your champagne, sirs?” A waiter arrived at their box seats with a full bottle and five champagne flutes. Austria was served first, and he drank his portion eagerly, too quickly. It was going to be a long night.

-

Austria was not sure when he and Spain ended up behind the theatre together, when he pinned the other against the brick wall of the building, when he started kissing him desperately, or how many champagne flutes he had gone through. It was some time after Prussia had made the accusation that all Austria could ever bring Hungary was pain, that he was delaying the inevitable collapse when everyone under his power would turn on him, including her. That she wasn’t going to benefit whatsoever from being owned, that his concept of love was so skewed that he had no idea what sacrifice meant. That if he really loved the woman, he’d let her go, even if it meant that he’d perish in the process. It was some time after France had tried to shut Prussia up, saying Austria didn’t deserve any of this, and after the subject derailed to disputes regarding France’s and Prussia’s leaders. It had devolved into a bar fight, with threats of war in the coming years thrown casually, and after Italy said he’d handle the peacemaking process, Spain suggested it was a good idea to find somewhere else to be.

Apparently, that place was in the alley behind the venue.

  
“Austria, this isn’t – ah, Austria, you almost finished an entire bottle on your own… I-I don’t mind, but I know how you are, I know you’re going to regret this…”

“I’m terrified, Antonio, you heard what he said.” Austria vaguely settled his forehead on Spain’s neck, not caring about the cramp it was giving him due to his taller height. “I’ve been pushing away that fear ever since – ever since I first felt drawn to her, really, I mean, you know what happened with _us_.” Austria shot upright, throwing his hands in the air suddenly.

“I… yes, I am aware…”

If Spain seemed exasperated, Austria was too intoxicated to internalize it. “There I was like a _child_ saying I wouldn’t tolerate bigamy, and look, look what I’ve gone and done…”  
  
“I mean, I told you you’d regret it…”

“And I’ve put you through the burden of being my Best Man. How could I have been so selfish?”  
  
“I don’t have an answer for that, but it’s not as hard on me as you think it is.”

“I don’t believe that,” Austria sulked. For a moment, his brain couldn’t think of anything else to be upset over, and so it kept searching until it found the next demon. “It’s supposed to be cloudy that day, and people are already saying it’s a bad omen for her future. And Gilbert said I’m going to bring her down with me when I fall. The trouble is, he’s right. No one else under my domain wants to remain so. She’s the only one, and she really doesn’t, she’s settling for sovereignty under my rule instead of independence because it’s the best that circumstances will allow, and even that can’t possibly last. It’s only meant to be a temporary fix, that’s what they’re all saying. And it’s better, because as you already know firsthand I’m incapable of anything positive coming from a relationship.”

“Aren’t we all, though? Is it possible for things to continue amicably, being what we are?”

“I don’t know—” Austria realized he was shouting, and lowered his voice dramatically. “I don’t know, Poland and Lithuania seemed pretty happy together until Russia and _that imbecile_ dragged me into partitioning them. He… he’s stronger than me, he’s far more skilled, he has all the means to survive as a great power and yet he’s choosing to have that child replace him entirely… and here I am, taking his woman from him. Why does she love me? I don’t understand, what is there to love about me? He has everything I don’t, why would she pick me?”

“Whoa, Austria, you’re going overboard. You’re not taking anyone from anybody. Hey, let’s find some water for you to drink, okay?”

“What is there to love about me? Don’t say the piano or violin. That’s not a reason. Plenty of absolute vermin have happened to have been skilled with musical performance.”

Spain’s eyes closed, pained. “You’re asking the impossible, I can’t just… list things that are good about you like you were some product, isn’t enjoying time with you enough? It’s enough for me, why isn’t it enough for her?”

“Spain, I’m so sorry… you shouldn’t be dragged through all of this.”

Austria hadn’t registered that he was crying until he felt a tear being brushed away. It was dark, but the flickering gaslight around the corner illumined Spain’s eyes ( _green, it’s no wonder,_ he thought, never having made the connection until then) and he was able to make out his expression. Spain should have been upset, by all accounts. He somehow wasn’t.

“Listen… I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re going to have a great wedding, right? And a great marriage. Even if worst comes to worst, things come and go, and they come back, right? I mean, look at us, now… everything comes and goes. Politics are only on paper; it doesn’t change how we feel as people, and affection isn’t always exclusive.”

“It should be.”

“Well, okay.”

“…You should move in with us. I’ll ask the Kaiser.”

“Austria, that doesn’t make sense.”

“She won’t mind. Trust me. She’d probably appreciate it. You don’t know her, I do, and I’m telling you she’d like it if you were part of our quarters – home. I meant home.”

Spain’s face contorted in bewilderment. “You should… stop talking, probably.”  
  
“Perhaps.”

“Hey. _Rodrigo._ ” Spain stood on his toes to give a quick peck on the lips, still cautious. “Can we just enjoy the rest of the night? No more sulking?”

Austria nodded, leaning in to return the kiss. “I may be quite drunk, but I’ve got enough wits about me to know I can’t go much further than this, not so soon before… ah, you know.” His cheeks tinged pink again, and he found himself wondering what Hungary’s dress looked like.

Spain ran his fingers through Austria’s hair. “I know you’re saving yourself, don’t worry. But there’s never any harm in kissing.”

“Perhaps.”

They remained there for the next hour, before heading back to their respective rooms for the night.

-

**June 7, 1867**

There were times when Austria awoke in his room alone, and after resting in bed for a bit too much time, made his way to the eastern windowsill to enjoy the sun from inside. If he was feeling sentimental, he would look into the distance, towards the southeast, wistfully proud that Hungary was a part of his life. During extreme saccharine moods, he would relish some sort of ridiculous comparison to her being his sunshine, though he could never verbalize such a thought to anyone, lest he imply that he was overly emotional – or worse, fond of cliché. But in general, as long as he was not outside without a tree or a companion’s parasol to shade him, Austria quite enjoyed the sunlight.

This morning was not one of those times. The sun was peeking in through the curtains at just such an angle that made it difficult for Austria to get away from – it cast a horizontal beam across both pillows. He couldn’t help but be a bit sour; a few centuries ago, he had a canopy bed with a curtain. Spain had one as well, and –

_…Ah. Right. Spain. That happened._

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he remembered the encounter. It had been a century since he last was that cozy with the other man, and their relationship had always been a bit odd. They were polar opposites that seemed to find common ground in wasting time. Their differences complemented each other, but never quite melded, at least up until that point in time. There was a great deal of affection, but also frustration, and some growing up left to do. And they had grown up a bit since then; perhaps if things started now, rather than when they both were the equivalent of fourteen years old, it wouldn’t have been as awkward. The thought plagued him; he hadn’t even allowed it to linger in his mind after things ended poorly. Naturally, there were memories, but the _what-if_ factor was a moot point, until last night.

With the alcohol no longer clouding his judgment, though, at the very least he didn’t feel anymore as if he were pining. Wondering, yes. But it wasn’t as longing as it was the previous night, as he drifted off to sleep. Reluctantly, he got up to wash his face and brush his teeth, ringing the bell in his room to request his breakfast.

A few moments later, the knock at the door was followed by a familiar voice.

“ _Österreich,_ it’s Franz. I asked your valet to alert me when you were awake. No need for formalities; may I enter?”

Austria scrambled. ‘No need for formalities’ his _foot,_ he wasn’t about to be seen in his only his sleep shirt by the Emperor. Frantically, he put his pajama pants back on (they’d been kicked off in the middle of the night), and put a plush robe on for further modesty, even if it was still not enough for his preferences. “I have my sleeping clothes and a robe on, if that’s acceptable.”

The door opened, and Austria bowed his head. The Emperor was dressed similarly. “ _Gulaschsuppe?_ I’ll have them make it for you. You know it’s the best cure for a hangover, and they do make it best here.”  
  
He looked up from his bow, his expression wilted. “Is it that obvious?” Austria began to wonder if it would be out of line to request to borrow Empress Elisabeth’s skin treatments to hide the bags under his eyes for the wedding the next day.

The Emperor chuckled. “No, no, but I know how these things go.” He gestured for Austria to sit, pulling up a desk chair for himself. “I trust you enjoyed yourself.”

Austria’s breath caught in his throat. He was not in the mood to be interrogated – his superior certainly didn’t seem like the gossiping type, but when something as significant as _necking with the best man in a back alley for over an hour_ was part of the equation, it was difficult not to be paranoid. “Ah… for the most part, yes.”

“Worried? You have no reason to be.”

Was it wrong to express his disagreement? After all, it was his boss. He didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. In cases where nations sensed premonitions about the future as a result of feeling collective emotions of their populace, leaders often took selfish precautions. If he complained with honesty, would it cause more restrictions on them? More significantly, on her? No, it was best to keep the filter up, no matter how much he could have benefited from a heart-to-heart chat on the matter. At least, a more platonic one than he’d had the previous night.

“I suppose you’re right. Prussia said a few cutting words, but he’s still bitter that defeating me last year was what ultimately led to me marrying her. He was always quite fond of her.”

A thoughtful sigh came from the mustached man. “So I see. I suppose I’m not surprised; if he’s smitten with her, it would explain several things about his behavior.”

Austria’s expression went flat. “What did he do?” It was spat out like a statement, rather than a question.

The Emperor laughed again. “Oh, nothing, nothing specific, not anything you aren’t already aware of, it’s just the way he acts around her.”

“Indeed,” Austria grumbled. “Classless.”

“One could argue that, yes.” Franz Joseph leaned back in the chair; it was more of a paternal dynamic than Austria was used to with the man. In the past, it had been fraternal. But Austria could sense something parental about the way he was presenting himself, something he hadn’t seen so prominently from one of his leaders since Maria Theresia. “Then you know you’re the better one for her.”

“Yes, naturally!” The response was scoffed, and perhaps a bit too emphatic, and Austria felt himself unconsciously slipping into thicker _Schönbrunner Deutsch_ the more he spoke with his boss. And it was true; as he thought about the marriage in terms of what was better for Hungary and who would treat her properly, rather than which of them seemed like a more impressive partner, there was no question in his mind. Prussia could never, and should never, have that sort of bond with her. Because even if Hungary didn’t deserve Austria, she _certainly_ didn’t deserve Prussia. “The thought of him being any sort of gentleman with her is laughable!”

“Quite.” A firm nod. “I trust you’ll love her well – she belongs to you now, you know, more than ever before. At least, starting tomorrow.”

The confident air that the conversation had brought him began to dissipate, and Austria shifted awkwardly on the edge of the bed. The words stewed in his mind, and he tried to rationalize them. He came up with nothing. “…I was unaware that granting sovereignty to someone made them property.”

“Goodness, no; I mean romantically.”

“So do I,” he insisted. “This arrangement is the closest we can get to being on equal footing without putting my life in danger by losing her land entirely. I’ve grown tired of treating her as a servant.”

The Emperor looked studious, hand on his chin. “ _Österreich,_ that isn’t what I meant. Answer me this – I know that you often feel the conflict of our citizens firsthand. Had you at any point felt emotionally influenced by the Viennese Legion during her revolts nineteen years ago?”

The question hit him like ice on his back. “No, Your Highness,” was the dutiful response.

“I’m not trying to scold you, Roderich, just to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand or discuss. I’m not about to self-destruct.” It was becoming increasingly infuriating that his status as a nation meant never, ever having the privilege of a peaceful wedding. Of course, he didn’t mind grand celebrations, and had no issues with ‘being seen’ provided that ‘being seen’ only ever meant ‘being seen as impressive.’ Being the subject of what was essentially a literal armchair psychoanalysis from his boss only served to make him feel simultaneously exposed and suffocated.

“I never thought you were. It’s simply that the more we talk to each other, the better I can govern.”

Well, it certainly felt parental, but actually being asked how he felt was a breath of fresh air after the _I-know-what’s-best-for-you_ that was Maria Theresia’s parental style. “If you’ll grant me a bit of understanding,” he sighed, dodging a direct apology, “I am still recovering from last night, preparing for tomorrow, and it was a lot to take in first thing in the morning with a headache.”

There was another chuckle from the Emperor as he approached Austria, putting a hand on his shoulder and an encouraging finger under his chin to tip his head up. Austria closed his eyes, embarrassed that it was somehow comforting to be babied. He was more mature than that, surely. “I’ll have them prepare you that soup. Never fails to cure a hangover.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“I do hope you were able to spot a few knees last night.”

In true patriotism, Austria’s skin went white, then red, as if to match his flag. “What did they tell you!?”

“Absolutely nothing, but I’m content with that response.” Franz Joseph started up to leave, and Austria bowed in turn. “I shall see you later at the reception of the Diplomatic Corps.”

“…Quite.” The level of emotional intimacy his leader was attempting was jarring, but perhaps he was right – it was better to communicate. Especially now that not one, but two main powers were to be involved.

-

**June 8, 1867**

The ceremony had gone smoothly. It almost felt anticlimactic, as they were more of a side note of the coronation celebration, and they were not given time to speak as their rulers were. The reception for them was livelier, but most didn’t approach them – only their fellow nations. There was an adjacent ballroom set up for them – it was attached, so that the two celebrations were not completely separate, but they were removed enough not to be a distraction to the newly crowned. A few citizens looked in out of fascination. It was less stressful that way, but Hungary felt a bit like a caged animal on display. The nations were something to be looked at, admired, and respected, but it seemed that very few citizens felt comfortable enough to go near them. Austria was able to converse with a few of the instrumentalists and choir members. Hungary spoke with Andrássy, but Deák was not present. Liszt was one of her only connections with the populace, and the two did manage to exchange kind conversation. Even most of her bridesmaids kept a somewhat respectful distance – Czechia and the Balkan lands all were in the very awkward position of not having been the ones picked to be granted sovereignty. Hungary noticed that they seemed to be having difficulty keeping up their cordiality. Liechtenstein was indifferent on the matter, but quiet. Poland, whom she had selected as the Man of Honor, was just as close with Hungary as he’d ever been, but was worn out from socializing. He wasn’t as much of a fan of Austria as he was of her, so conversing with them as a couple felt forced.

On Austria’s side, it wasn’t much different. Slovakia was similarly resentful about the favoritism, France was becoming on increasingly harsh terms with Prussia – who, to everyone’s surprise, remained perfectly civil with regards to the newlyweds. Switzerland was not a partier, Italy was too much of one. Spain had given his speech as Best Man, but Hungary noticed that there was a strange, avoidant aura between him and Austria that was not present before that night, and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

Late into the event, Prussia approached the couple.

“Well,” he croaked out, stretching his arms. “I’d better hit the hay, I’ve got to get some sleep. Like I said, constitution writing is hard work, and I’m supposed to get right back to it after this tomorrow morning. Can only get so much sleep in overnight transportation.”

“Thank you for coming,” Hungary said, her voice soft. “I mean it.”

Prussia laughed. “Didn’t have much of a choice, right? In any case, I wouldn’t have missed it anyway. Look at you, all sovereign now.” He never took his eyes off of Hungary, and never directed any of his words towards Austria. “I’m proud of you. Make the best of what you can, right?”

Hungary’s cheeks colored, looking away with a forced smile. “I’m not sure how to take that.” What was the point of saying something like that? Why not just stop at saying he was proud of her? Yet, she knew that she would be questioning any and all subtext even if he’d ended it there. What was he proud of? Was it patronizing to be proud of someone for having been selected as a favorite? Of course, she knew it wasn’t as simple as that – through her revolutions, her negotiations, and strong presence, she’d made her voice heard. But this was Prussia, and Hungary was growing nervous that thinking he could conduct himself properly at her wedding was simply an illusion.

“It means I’m proud of you. I don’t know what else it can mean.” He cleared his throat. “Weirdo. Anyway, good night.”

“Good night. Safe travels.”

-

Hungary walked silently alongside Austria, heading towards their wedding suite. No words were exchanged, and she noticed that they were moving more slowly than usual.

“Forgive me, I feel as if I’m being sluggish,” she murmured. “I can’t tell if I overindulged at the banquet or if it’s just that this bodice is too tight.”

Austria nodded. After a moment of looking at his feet as he walked: “You know we don’t have to—”

“No, no. I want to.” She stopped in her path. “…Do you?” She hadn’t realized that the reassurance may have been an indirect way for him to probe for an escape route.

“…You’re forcing me to make vulgar insinuations.”

The day’s stress – no, months’, _years’_ stress – came to a head, and Hungary let out an unladylike _shriek_ before bursting into tearful laughter. “Insinuations!? Roderich, we’re married. We’re _married_ now. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that the entire _world_ is expecting us to be ‘vulgar’ tonight, as you put it…!”

Austria made a fanning motion with his hand. “Will you be quiet?? We haven’t even arrived in our suite yet; you’re so loud!”

“Then hurry.” She grabbed his wrist, any hint of a stomach ache gone as she jogged through the hallway, finally arriving to open the door. She stood with her arms wide. “Carry me.”

Austria examined her, seeming at a loss. “…Your petticoat is too large. My suit is ceremonial and I’ve barely had enough give in the fabric around my shoulders to waltz with you earlier.”

“I managed with a corset. Fine,” she shrugged. “My arms at least have enough room to move.” In one swift move, he was somehow flopped over her shoulder like a prized kill from the hunt.

“What are you – that’s not how this is supposed to happen, that’s not how any of this is supposed to–”

Hungary closed the door, and put him down to stand on his feet.

It was quiet again, as they took in their surroundings. The room had been scented with roses for them, wine and fruits and honey were left on a small table for them to enjoy. Unopened gifts from their colleagues were also placed carefully on the desk.

“...It’s not much we haven’t done before,” she reassured. They had managed to get some alone time in the past, it was true, but not enough to devote emotion fully, or even disrobe. Everything was too rushed to have the same pressure as existed between them on their wedding night. For him, too much time spent together meant too much social risk of being seen. He would look unprofessional at best, and predatory at worst. For her, far more was at risk – the potential implications of her physical attraction to him while she was still very much a subordinate – and one who wanted freedom – already had plagued her. If anyone from her lands knew, they would be discouraged. If the Austrian nobility and royalty knew, they would be empowered. Even now, with her at her highest rank in centuries, the guilt loomed in the back of her mind. But they were joining as one – she wasn’t surrendering, and she wasn’t his object. She repeated that sentiment over and over in her mind.

“You can’t expect me not to find that statement ridiculous,” Austria scoffed. “We’ve hardly been able to do anything yet.”

“No, I know. You’re right.”

The sternness in Austria’s eyes calmed slightly. “…I told you that you looked lovely earlier. The words felt empty, and understated; there were too many people watching us.” He swallowed. “I want you to know; you are excruciatingly beautiful.”

Hungary’s heart fluttered, unused to hearing him articulate anything so forwardly.

“I… I’m impressed that you were able to fit all of your medallions on your… ah… the front of your gown.”

That was better. That was the Austria she knew. “It’s tricky when you don’t have all the jacket space you have. Yours look pretty spread out. Or maybe I just have more military decorations than you,” she teased.

“You’ve always been a better warrior.”

Her breathing became shallow, hearing the low tone in his voice. For one, that wasn’t something he had ever readily admitted. She knew he was aware, what with all of the times she saved him, and with all the times he couldn’t defeat her without outside help. But to say it aloud was a different matter. What was he trying to do? At this point, she had expected him to be advancing on her. Especially with _that tone_ , and all he was just _standing there…_

 

“I… tonight. I would like to know that warrior more.”

And there was the answer.

Her first few steps forward were cautious. “You sound like you want to be conquered, or something.”

She heard him exhale through his nostrils, and she abandoned that caution immediately. Determined, she cornered him, grasping one of his medallions and pinning him to the wall. He sighed audibly, and she took in the sight. His glasses were askew from having been pushed, his pristine, perfectly-pressed jacket was now becoming wrinkled, and his hair had half-fallen out of its groomed waves to its more natural, mussed state. Seeing him disheveled for any reason always made her heart race, but by her hand, it was even more enthralling. She kissed him, and it was in a manner far harsher than she expected from herself, at least so early in the night. In turn, his long fingers slid to her back, working on the lacing of her bodice, and she stopped to catch her breath.

“Is this what you always wanted? This way?”

“I don’t know,” he shuddered, his voice sounding dry, and swallowed. “I don’t know anything right now. I’ve been thinking about it and waiting all day and I still don’t know.”

He certainly looked caught off guard by his own actions. She studied him, trying to determine what the best way to proceed was. If he was this unnerved by himself, had he initially planned on taking control? If his concerns about the implications of how they made love that night resembled hers in any way, perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to advance. But although he was feigning passiveness, there was no question he was acting on impulse, not on plan, not on duty. Not on what was expected of him, but on what he desired in that very moment.

“Good,” she breathed. “Keep it that way. This isn’t the time to be dwelling on anything.”

-

**June 10, 1877**

Elisabeth’s coach arrived at Schönbrunn in the early morning, having brought her back from two weeks at a spa in South Tyrol. Hungary was the first to greet her outside the palace, having gotten up early to do so. Austria opted to sleep later and greet her at breakfast along with everyone else in the palace, including Franz Joseph. It had been Elisabeth’s firmly established wish to arrive with as little to-do as possible, and to have time to freshen up from the journey before she greeted her husband. As much as it was against protocol, Hungary made an exception for herself. When Elisabeth saw her waiting on the palace steps, she certainly didn’t seem upset.

“Erzsébet,” the Empress’ eyes perked up. “I hadn’t expected you up this early.” She leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks in greeting.  
  
Hungary returned the gesture, her face warm despite the absence of much sunlight. “I haven’t brought anyone with me. No one else knows I’m here.”

“Thank you,” the Empress sighed. “I don’t want to create a commotion. I want to talk with you further; I’ve missed your company. I do so wish you could join me more often on my excursions; I know it’s not really an option for you very often.”

  
“Oh! Well, I… I will definitely see what I can arrange. If it’s only for a week, I may be able to request the time off.” It was a difficult situation – Hungary wanted dearly to spend more time with the Empress, but time alone with Austria was also lacking. They saw quite a bit of each other, but it was mostly business. A few moments to relax here and there, but nothing extended. Still, she found herself drawn to the idea of having some space away from him. “I’d worry about Austria, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, right?” She laughed nervously.

Elisabeth nodded, the light in her eyes dimming slightly. “Yes, that’s true; I’m sure I’ve got quite a bit of affection waiting for me when I return to my husband.” The glow about her returned, though perhaps more wistful than cheerful. “But tell me – how was your anniversary? I cannot believe it’s been ten years.”

Hungary was eager to change the subject; she hadn’t meant to hit a nerve. “Oh it was lovely! We were given a banquet dinner, but before that, we’d arranged to have a folk celebration in the park.” It didn’t feel right to call it that; it almost felt as if the word turned their own cultures into a curiosity. However, it felt even worse to call it a commoner’s celebration. “Several acquaintances from both of our homes attended, and the party grew as people from town saw there was something happening. In a way, we had a second wedding, and we had a lot of the traditions I would have liked to have done if we’d been married more discreetly. Street musicians saw what was going on, and began to play for us. Austria was goaded into carrying me around like he’d kidnapped me and the crowd shouted that I was for sale.” The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it would have been wildly inappropriate and uncomfortable ten years earlier – now, she was able to laugh it off. “We wore our own respective traditional dress – it was nice to see Austria in _Tracht;_ he always looks more relaxed in it, even if he actually isn’t.”

That earned a chortle from the Empress. “He does look darling in it, I must say. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Oh, no, no!” Her hands flew up, waving frantically, and for a moment she thought Italy had been rubbing off on her. “Please, Your Highness, you absolutely deserve to be away from the court. It’s so very taxing, and restrictive.” Without thinking first, she put on her most charming smile. “Women like you and I… we aren’t meant for rigidity like that.”

“Quite,” Sisi responded, sighing a bit. “You’re very fortunate, that it’s part of your job to connect with the common citizen, on a more intimate level. Like your anniversary celebration – there’s no way I could get away with something like that. It would have to be done in secret. I could not have been seen with you at that party even if I were in town.”

Hungary grasped the Empress’ shoulder, looking her straight in the eye. “Listen. We are going to arrange our own parties. If you can’t arrange to be with your people, then I will arrange an outing to Bavaria on my terms, and you can accompany.”

“That sounds lovely in theory,” she began, “but I’m not quite sure people would take me off of the pedestal they’ve put me on. If everyone would treat me like you do, without fear, then perhaps it may be an enjoyable experience. But I feel that even in my hometown, I’ve been away too long for people to connect with me again.” She looked at Hungary’s hand, laughing. “I cannot even imagine that a regular citizen would be comfortable putting their hand on my shoulder like you are! I don’t mind, it’s refreshing to feel at ease with a good friend.” The laugh was short-lived, and her default melancholy returned. “But for people back home, that door may be closed already, I fear.”

Hungary wasn’t sure whether to remove her hand from embarrassment or leave it there. It seemed to comfort the other woman, so she left it, her thumb moving along the fabric of the coat, trying to comfort her further. “You never know.”

“I suppose. In any case, I’ve set aside some time later today to go horseback riding. Would you care to join?”

The nation smiled widely. “I’d be delighted, Your Highness.”

Sisi’s dimpled grin returned to her countenance – the newfound cheer seemed to almost reach her eyes. “Splendid.” She kissed Hungary on both cheeks to bid farewell, this time giving a firm, grateful embrace. Hungary felt a sudden chill, and she leaned into the Empress’ arms in an attempt to rid herself of it. The attempt was fruitless.

Elisabeth remained still for several moments. “They’ll wonder where I am,” she spoke softly, and Hungary couldn’t quite make out if it was apologetic as well. “Six hours from now? Do you have any obligations then?”

“Not currently.”

The Empress pulled away. “I will see you at the stables then. I look forward to it.”

-

It took longer than Hungary expected to rummage through her closet to pick what she would wear for the outing. She had several riding habits, but they always made her feel restricted, both physically and mentally. Horseback riding was supposed to be freeing, exhilarating. There were few things Hungary found more confining than heavy dresses. They weren’t awful, but they had their place. She settled upon a beige men’s riding suit, which she had tailored to fit her figure. Still, she couldn’t go _entirely_ dressed as a man – she rode fast, and if she didn’t want to be sore from impact, she still needed her riding corset to keep everything contained.  
  
She peeked into the study. “Roderich, can you lace this?”

Austria’s back was still turned as he held up a finger, humming loudly, focused on scrawling something out. “ _Just – a – moment –”_ the words came out to the same tune he’d just hummed. Finally, he put his pen down, looking satisfied. “Apologies; I couldn’t let that motif slip away. What was it you needed?”

“Corset.”

Hungary smirked; by the way Austria turned around in his seat, she was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. She turned around to present her back so that he could tighten the garment. She bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a giggle. Without fail, she noted, Austria was more efficient at lacing (and unlacing) a corset than even her handmaiden. “Well, I know who to call on when I’m in a hurry.”

He drummed his fingers on the side of her hips, which that particular undergarment left bare for freedom of movement. “Going riding?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a connoisseur.” She looked over her shoulder. “I’m putting drawers on, don’t worry. I should have put them on first; they’re so tricky to get on after…”

“You knew precisely what you were doing,” he mumbled, and swatted her rear. “Go finish changing.”  
  
“Mhm…” the response was nearly sung as she dashed back to her bedroom. She emerged five minutes later wearing the riding suit, her hair tied up loosely, sporting a top hat. “Having you lace me wasn’t just to tease you, you know. Every time I wear this suit, my handmaiden gives me absolute hell for dressing like a man. I wasn’t going to send for her.”  
  
“She knows nothing,” Austria sighed, reaching over to tug the bottom of her jacket, straightening it. “What’s good enough for Chopin is good enough for me.”

“How selfish; I wear what I choose for myself. I’m just very lucky you appreciate it.”

“Indeed. Need a companion?”

Hungary’s gaze turned downward and away, sheepish. “Ah… actually, I’m going with Sisi. She wanted to chat.”

“Ah. I see.” Austria gave a small smile. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“What? What’s wrong?” She was fidgeting, toes wiggling in her boots.

Austria’s brow furrowed. “Nothing…?”

“You looked jealous.”

His head flinched backwards, nearly giving him a double chin. “Why would I be jealous? Do I have reason to be jealous?”

“No!!” The response came out much louder than Hungary expected. “No,” she repeated, quietly this time. Putting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, she leaned up to kiss him. “Just leaving you alone, I mean.”

He shrugged. “I have my tone poem to work on. Though, after that display, a prompt return is appreciated.”

Hungary bit her lip in a grin, her posture finally relaxing after the misunderstanding. For the time being, the most stressful thing on her mind was the predicament of figuring out how to get to the stables mostly unseen by those who worked in the palace. “I won’t be gone long.”

-

**September 12, 1898**

The entire palace was in a state of emotional disarray after learning of Elisabeth’s assassination. Too many things had to be arranged. Austria felt as if there was no time to properly grieve. After frantically taking care of business, trying to help other officials as best he could, trying to motivate the Kaiser through _his_ sudden and unbearable grief left him with no emotional energy left for himself to sort things out in his own mind. He had to excuse himself from the commotion for a short while, even if only to breathe quietly.

Arriving in his study, he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d always had porcelain skin, but usually with a tinge of pink in his cheeks. He had no clear physical ailments, but the color had gone from him completely. If there was any color on his face, at least in that light, he supposed it might be gray. He had seen his fair share of political turmoil, of assassinations or executions in general, but this seemed to be hitting harder than most. He didn’t think that anything could have been worse than Rudolf’s suicide pact – that alone was one of the most disturbing events he’d gone through. But Elisabeth’s assassination, aside from being personally devastating, was a symbolic one. It was an attack on hopes of improvement within the empire. She had been the driving force behind many of the Emperor’s moments of progressivism. It was an attack on Austria’s own betterment, and it was a threat of destruction.

He was jolted out of dwelling by the sudden outburst of sickened sobs from the bedroom.

He knocked on the door weakly. “Erzsébet…” Her name felt strange on his tongue. It was the Empress’ name, each time she was seen in Hungary. The simple act of trying to speak to his wife chilled him. “May I enter?”

“If you must.”

Austria lowered his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to impose on her. But the more he thought about it in that moment, after forcing his feelings out of the picture for two days straight, the answer to the question was yes; he must. He entered the room timidly, and found his wife in her sleeping clothes. It was late afternoon, and she had not left the bed. Her hair was matted.

“I was supposed to go with her on that holiday,” she whispered numbly. “We had planned on it. She pushed me away in the end. She said it wasn’t personal, but that she didn’t want to be reminded of the empire. I didn’t want to be reminded of it either, but it didn’t matter. If I had been there…”

“No, no… don’t…” He had planned on giving her space, but he found himself needier than he would have liked. He rushed to her bedside, grasped her wrist, and collapsed forward so that his forehead rested on her arm. He wanted to cry with her, but nothing came out. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“There was so much I didn’t tell her.”

“I think we all wish we could have done more to make her happier–”

“I loved her so much, Roderich.”

“I know you did.”  
  
“You don’t,” she snapped back, and the words stung. His hand tightened on her wrist, and he didn’t lift his head.

Cautiously, he spoke up. “I do know how you felt about her.”

Hungary was silent – truly silent, as Austria had noticed she was holding her breath, and there was a pain in her expression that seemed as if she were still hiding something else.

“You never said anything,” her voice cracked. “You never seemed jealous.”

“I wasn’t.” He should have been. Every ounce of social conditioning within him was telling him he should have been jealous, his past self was demanding it of him, saying that a good husband would be protective of the relationship. But no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to find that emotion. “I don’t know why,” he continued, “but I never was. I think—” and now the tears he was looking for earlier came “—I think I was pleased, or relieved? For you to be so at peace with a member of my royalty to be able to fall in love with her, it quelled fears that you were unhappy here…”

As she finally gave up holding her breath, her sobbing returned as if a dam had broken. He didn’t feel it appropriate to try and hush her.

“I don’t understand,” she wailed. “I could have taken the hit, why are human lives so much more fragile?”

He couldn’t answer; he knew that she wasn’t expecting one. There had been so much death throughout their marriage, and each time it had hit closer to home. He was becoming fearful.

Again, he pushed it out of his mind.

-

**June 8, 2017**

After frantically struggling to make last-minute plans on their anniversary, bickering over what sort of activity was appropriate, what they could organize on the same day, they finally settled on a simple picnic near Fertő lake. Opting to avoid the crowds, they found a secluded bench in a wooded area, a bit further from the water than most of the public tables.

“Something about us and picnics on the border, I suppose,” Austria smirked. “This worked out nicely.” He opened the cooler, pulling out a small sandwich he’d made for Hungary and a bottle of Tokaji. For himself, he opened up a container filled with rolled cold cuts and cheese. There were store-bought pastries for later.

They’d arrived in time to watch the sun set over the lake, and by the time dusk arrived, they’d made their way through most of the wine. Not much was said between them for the majority of their dinner; they only sat back, his head eventually settling on her shoulder, her arm around his waist. They were drowsy from the drink, and the worry of trying to filter their thoughts was beginning to fade.

“You know, talking about picnics,” she mused, “I was the last country to leave you, back at the end of the Great War, and the first to bust my way back, in eighty-nine…”

Austria almost smiled, but a sudden thought stung him. He nestled further against her. “There’s something I never told you.”

“Oh? I like surprises.”  
  
His head shook. “No, this is … Lord, it’s the worst time to bring it up, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s upsetting…”

“Tell me.” Her voice was childlike and pleading, not quite having retained the ‘upsetting’ bit of what he’d just said. Regardless, Austria never did well with resisting that tone.

“It’s… it’s that I’m reasonably certain I nearly lost you during the Aster Revolution. You wouldn’t wake up.”

Hungary released her hold on Austria, prompting him to sit up straight. She looked at him, puzzled. “I’m not surprised. I always regretted being too ill to participate, and I don’t remember much from those days. I didn’t realize I was… gone, though.”

Austria was avoiding eye contact, staring idly at a sparrow that seemed intent on listening to their conversation. “On the morning of the thirty-first, you wouldn’t wake up with me. I begged Charles to surrender peacefully. I couldn’t… imagine…”

“Roderich…”

“…and that bastard Gilbert thinks I don’t know what loving sacrifice is,” he finally scoffed, not in the mood to be drunk and weepy, eager to replace the emotion with arrogance. He’d already cried enough that morning. “That I could never put my life at risk to save you. I mean, he said it at the bachelor party, but you know when words _linger_ …”

Hungary let out an aggravated groan, and the sparrow was scared away. “I could strangle him.” Her head fell into her hands. “I… while we’re at it, there’s also something I never told you, but it’s a bit _nicer,_ ” she dug at him.

“Than what!?”  
  
“Than your martyr complex.”

His eyes widened incredulously. She was tipsy, and he was content to leave it at that and not read into it too much. “What is it, then?”

Austria saw a sense of wistful pride grace Hungary’s features as she gazed out upon the water. “Sisi told me, she was envious of us. She said to me, ‘Erzsi, I wish I had what you and Roderich have. I often think that I would be happy with Franz if he were not the Emperor, that the same person, under different upbringing – without his insufferable sense of duty, without that mother of his – I could love him so much more easily, more freely. He was always the Emperor to me. You knew Roderich centuries ago, you’ve gone through so many different dynamics between each other. Your marriage right now is a political one, and it’s restricting, and painful for the time being. But you have different roles ahead of you. You’re not bound by the empire for the rest of your life, like I am; you outlive contracts. So please, do one thing for me – no matter what happens to the Dual Monarchy, I want you to have what I could not have.’”

His hopes of refraining from weeping were in peril again. He poured the last drop of wine into his glass. “So, you still associate with out of respect for her,” he deflected.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She made a swatting gesture, and Austria was unsure if it was in response to his statement, or because it was dusk, and mosquitos were emerging. “Don’t you think we have what she would have wanted? We don’t live together anymore, we live our own lives, we aren’t exclusive, and it keeps us sane. It allows us to have the bond we do.”

“Now I’m only guilt-ridden,” he whined. “I always felt awful that she never found happiness.”

“She wanted it for us. She said that she would be happy if we had this life. So in a way she’s living on through us.” Hungary looked at her glass, noting that there was a small sip of the wine left in it. She held it up, sleepy, but earnest. “To Sisi, and to our bond.”

Austria raised his glass as well, remembering not to clink it to hers. “ _Egészségedre_.” A dry grin crept across his lips. “And _egészsegedre_.” He drank, only to have his glass snatched away from him when it was empty.

“You’ve had enough, if you’re toasting my butt, on purpose _or_ by accident. You know my language better than that.”

“I would never do something so undignified. Did I pronounce it differently the second time?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“In all honesty, Antonio told me the same thing, back at the bachelor party,” he mused. “When I was afraid of… well, what ended up happening at the end of the Great War… he told me that politics are only on paper, that it doesn’t change how we feel as people, and that affection isn’t always exclusive.”

Hungary tilted her head warmly. “He’s so sweet to you.”

He cleared his throat, waving his hand about in the air, failing at any attempt to look posh. “I daresay, this does seem to be the time for secret-sharing, so I’ve got one more.” His arm snaked around _her_ waist this time, and he all but pressed his lips against her ear to whisper: “I kissed him that night.”

Her jaw dropped to a gleeful smile. “You did not. The _best man,_ Roderich…”

His hand slipped towards her knee, his lips still brushing her ear, eyelids pressed against his glasses, sure to make a smudge. “In a back alley, behind a gentleman’s club, for an hour.” He blushed, never having articulated it. Put so bluntly, he still couldn’t believe that’s exactly what happened. He felt her shudder beneath his arm.

“Then you owe me, don’t you?” She placed the wine glasses on the ground and kissed him, and he felt her rough palms cupping his cheeks. “We’ll call a cab in an hour. You owe me that much time of outdoor kisses.”

Their time together began playfully, but Austria would be damned if he didn’t feel as close to reading her mind, and having his mind read by her, as he’d ever been. The slightest pull of her hand on his shirt, the inflection of her sighs, the shape of her lips on his, told all he needed to know about what sort of memory was on her mind at a given moment, and he reciprocated. He could sense her heartbreak, her mischief, and her fire, and no more words were exchanged that night. Before they could remember to call for a ride home, sleep overtook them. They drifted off in each other’s arms, and awoke at dawn.

 

 

\---

 

 

A/N:

1\. The Hungarian Coronation Mass is a real piece of music that was played on that day. It's gorgeous; if you have a chance to listen, do it.

2\. I found a lot of stuff while going through New York Times archives on world news for the months of May and June 1867. It really was a week-long celebration and I tried to follow the schedule that was reported. I also found a LOT of very fascinating tidbits here and there that, looking at it from a modern perspective, were clearly lead-ups to the Franco-Prussian war. That's a war I don't know as much about and it was really fascinating to see reports of unrest here and there years before they culminated into an actual war. In any case, that's why France and Prussia don't get along well at the bachelor party.

3\. I have a whole lot of feelings about how Prussia winning the Austro-Prussian war was basically a catalyst for their marriage. I could go on forever. I kind of did in this and I feel like it's one of Those Things that no matter what fic I'm writing, if Austria and Prussia are involved, I feel compelled to bring it up and I feel like a broken record. But the compromise was finally decided on because Austria was in such bad shape from defeat. If Austria had won, he would have had "custody" over shaping the German Empire to his own preferences. But Prussia won that right, and not only did he drive the two of them together from it, he also essentially put the nail in his own coffin, because custody over the German Empire meant that he was creating something new to replace him. I notice (also through conversations with my RP buddy!!) that Prussia is incredibly self-sacrificing when it comes to Germany and I think that besides the obvious, it's also because he has to make his sacrifice worth it, and to show he's capable of selfless, familial love. And I think he thinks that's a superior form of love to romance, but giving the latter up is incredibly painful for him regardless. (I want to write more Prussia, wow.)

4\. Yikes, I don't really know how I feel about how I portrayed Franz Joseph here. I was going for earnest and well-meant, but I mean, still definitely a product of the times. He's a really interesting figure to me, because he comes off to me as both timid and stubborn, which I do think are qualities he shares with Roderich. I think that they would relate to each other a great deal, honestly, but I'm a flaming liberal and have a lot of strong feelings about nations feeling the drive of positive progress, so in my view I think FJ would kind of put a huge damper on that for Roderich. FJ kind of enabled Roderich's fear of change, I think.

5\. Sisi. Ahhhh, Sisi... so, spoilers, I got the idea for this fanfic while touring Hofburg. The audio tour quoted Sisi as having said the following (I found the audio files online!?):

"Oh, Hungary, beloved land of Hungary. I know thee to be in heavy chains. How I would like to offer my hand, to rescue you from slavery."

I had always known she was a huge fan of Hungary in general, and was very popular with Hungarians, and that Hungarian rights came about largely due to her influence on Franz Joseph. But oh my god, I went on that tour thinking _don't ruin this with fanfic ideas you're here for actual history just don't do it you fucking nerd_ and then ... that quote came on. And that was the end of that. Personally, I love the idea of them together. But I get weird about writing any romance involving actual people (unless the person in question was known for having lots of romantic partners, like um, Liszt, for instance), so I left it open-ended, other than the fact that Hungary was in love with her. Whether or not Elisabeth returned the affection is up to the reader, but honestly, in this universe, I find it extremely plausible. (It's a weird thing, because the idea of messing with real events, especially real people's relationships, has always bothered me. Respecting the dead and all that. But holy crap, Elisabeth did not have a happy marriage, so it's not exactly something I could imagine her caring about being respected. I dunno. If you ask me, Hungary and Sisi totally smooched at least once.)

6\. “What’s good enough for Chopin is good enough for me.” - This is a direct reference to Chopin's relationship with George Sand (that was her pen name), a female author who preferred men's clothing, drinking, smoking cigars, and generally being stereotypically manly. I am quite sure that Austria and Hungary have dressed up as Chopin and Sand for Halloween, and watched Impromptu on movie night with Poland. In pajamas.

7\. “I was the last country to leave you, back at the end of the Great War, and the first to bust my way back, in eighty-nine…” - Hungary was the last nation to formally declare independence from the empire. I can't remember which book I read it in, but they started dropping one by one, over the span of a week, I think? Hungary was the last to go. In 1989, the Pan-European Picnic was when Austria opened its borders to Hungary, and Hungarians and East Germans fled through that route since the wall was still up. Again. Feelings. Lots of them. The park by the lake I picked for them is very close to the location of the original "picnic" but it's on the Hungarian side of the border.

8\. The butt thing. If you don't pronounce "cheers/to your health" properly in Hungarian you end up saying "to your butt." It has to do with the accent mark. I can't explain further because I don't actually know Hungarian and found this out through a buzzfeed-esque list site about what not to do in Hungary, and also through Reddit.

9\. ...Honestly I hate the way I ended this. They passed out in the park? Yikes. But there is something sweet about it, and I couldn't figure out how else to end it without breaking the mood.

AND THAT'S IT. I THINK.


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